


Event Horizon

by onvavoir



Series: Teumessian Fox [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onvavoir/pseuds/onvavoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky turns up. Difficult conversations are not had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Event Horizon

Bucky stands in Matt's doorway, silent. Matt assumes that Steve's made the pitch, but he can't tell by the way Bucky carries himself. He simply steps through the front door and moulds himself to Matt, lips arms and chest. The only way not to kiss him back would be to abruptly reverse, and even Matt's not stupid enough to do that. The air grows heavy with breathing and the wet sound of their mouths. Bucky's arm around his waist gently leads him away from the door, towards the stairs, towards the bedroom.

Sometimes Matt wishes it could be like it was before, when they didn't know each other, when it was a simple matter of fulfilling a physical need. It would have been easier to let Bucky down-- but then, he wouldn't need to. There would be no Steve, no outside complications. He wouldn't sense the moment where he should speak up slipping further and further into the past. Bucky's hand moves down to squeeze his ass and short-circuits his self-hatred. 

It's comfortable now, the rhythm, the procedure of it. Bucky's hoodie, Matt's sweater, jeans and trousers, glasses, all shrugged off onto the floor in a trail that threatens to trip Matt later if he's not conscientious about picking up. He falls on his back in bed with Bucky on top. The roll of his hips is familiar now, the way his right elbow sinks into the mattress as his hand splays across Matt's collarbone. The other arm holds him up and presumably allows him a view.

"You're so pretty," he murmurs.

Heat rises in Matt's face. He knows he's blushing. Bucky seems to like that. He makes a quiet 'hm' sound and sucks at Matt's lower lip, catches it between his teeth. His tongue seeks. Bucky kisses him deep and slow and then reaches down with his good hand to stroke him to hardness. Matt sighs.

He should answer Steve.

He should be straight with Bucky. 

He doesn't notice right away that Bucky's stopped touching him. Only when Bucky settles down next to him, propped up on his left arm, does Matt frown a little in puzzlement.

"Something on your mind."

The tone is neutral, spoken flatly between presses of his lips to Matt's neck. It could be a question. It could be a statement. Matt sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. His hard-on abates, and he thinks bitterly that it would have been nice to have one last fuck before Bucky leaves.

"I've always got something on my mind," Matt says.

"Don't prevaricate, you fuckin' shyster."

Matt smiles despite himself. He doesn't answer. His hands go seeking, down Bucky's hip to the curve of his ass, the other tracing lazy circles in Bucky's shortened hair.

"I don't want to talk about it."

It's probably the most honest thing he'll say all night.

"Steve says I should get out of New York."

God _dammit_.

"Maybe he's right," Matt forces himself to say. Bucky's shaking his head. "You talk to him about it?"

"Dickhead doesn't listen to me. Never has, never will. Thinks he knows what's best for everybody."

Matt digs his fingers into Bucky's scalp, massages.

"Does he?"

"Who the fuck knows. I been alone a long time. I don't think more isolation is gonna do me any good."

Every angle Matt examines this from is difficult.

"Maybe he just... misses you. Wants to get to know you again..."

He hates the little knife of jealousy that stabs him in the chest.

"Tired of people telling me what to do."

Matt lifts his head just enough to press a kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth.

"Then do what you want."

Bucky lowers his head and kisses him with new intensity. He rolls back on top of Matt. He's still half-hard.

"And what if you're what I want?" he murmurs.

"Then do me."

Matt grins a little and hopes to god that's the end of the conversation. Bucky's lips brush over his jaw, down to his neck. They press, part, and Bucky's mouth sucks a little. Matt arches his neck into it. He slides his hands up to squeeze Bucky's ass. Bucky nips at his neck, his breath hot across Matt's skin.

"Can we fuck?"

"Yes."

"Hard?"

"Mmn. Yes."

His breath catches as Bucky's metal arm slides under him and flips him onto his stomach. Up on his elbows, he lets his head loll while Bucky kisses the nape of his neck. The warmth of his body seeps into Matt's skin. His dick hardens against Matt's ass. The worries melt in the heat and the slip of Bucky's fingers, his cock, the slide of lubricated skin against skin. It's harder to ruminate when Bucky's hips are slapping against his ass, shoving him forward incrementally until he can brace his palms against the headboard. Emotional complications overtaken by physical need. The relative simplicity of climax, orgasm, and refractory period.

They lie there in still silence until Matt rolls onto his side, Bucky spooning up behind with one arm draped over him. Fingertips brush across his stomach. They'd tickle if Matt hadn't long ago learned to suppress the reflex. He breathes in.

"He does care about you, y'know," Matt finds himself saying. "He's a good friend."

For a heavy, frozen moment Bucky doesn't reply.

"He fuckin' came to talk to you, didn't he?"

"I, what? No, that's--"

"You're a rotten liar."

Matt's halfway certain that it's meant affectionately. At least, Bucky hasn't rolled away and gotten out of bed. Small mercies. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"He's just trying to do right by you."

"What'd he say?" Bucky asks quietly. "If he-- I swear to god..."

"Shh." Matt laces their fingers together over his stomach. "He... he asked me to come too."

Silence, except for the quiet hum of Bucky's arm and the acceleration of his heart. His breath spreads across the nape of Matt's neck at regular intervals.

"What did you say?"

"I told him I'd give it some thought."

There's another prolonged moment of quiet.

"When was this?" Bucky asks.

"Couple of nights ago. He said he didn't think you'd come if I didn't." Matt tries to pull a little laughter into his voice, but it just sounds brittle. "Don't think he expected you to refuse entirely."

Behind him, Bucky is very still, despite the rabbiting of his heart.

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you think about it?" Bucky asks.

Matt's careful not to let his next exhale sound like a sigh.

"Yeah."

"And?"

He presses his lips together. "... I still don't know."

"Me either."

It takes a few minutes and a dip into shallow sleep for Matt to realise that's the end of the conversation.


End file.
